


everything's so easy for

by waitfortheclick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death, Domestic Violence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Misogyny, Physical Abuse, Violence, cis swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 13:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10594860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitfortheclick/pseuds/waitfortheclick
Summary: Cis swapped Dean Winchester, a departure.





	1. lost three fingers at the cannery

**Author's Note:**

> This, once again, was written 4 years ago and hasn't really been edited.

Sam doesn’t say goodbye when she leaves. Dean finds a note on her pillow. A note. She gets as far as “I’m sorry, but I can’t be what you want me to be…” before she crumples it up and stomps out the door.

She walks past the first bar, then the next, thankful they were staying in a bigger town for once so maybe she wouldn’t run into her dad. The sign behind the counter says “No Ladies At The Bar” but one mean look at the bartender shuts his mouth.

She knocks back her whiskey and sweeps a dark glance around the room. There’s a modest crowd, almost every table filled but only a couple people or so at each. She catches the eye of a solitary drinker, but her crooked tooth grin wanes his.

Dean turns back around and orders another, watching herself in the bar mirror. She doesn’t look too bad, she thinks. Maybe could have washed her hair more than twice this week. It’s up in a ponytail, the lights are forgiving, she thinks he ought to cut her some slack. If she really wanted to she could make him want her. The thought calms her and the burn of the whiskey covers up the whispers of “Sam could fart and he’d be head over heels” in her mind.

There’s a tap tap at her shoulder and her failed conquest is smiling, until he punches her in the face. The shock is stronger than the pain, and she’s disgusted with herself for not blocking it. Usually they go for the tits, though. Usually they grope, not hit. She’s on her feet in a split second, though, getting in an uppercut and a kick to the balls before time speeds up to meet her and another patron is pulling him away. Not that it matters much anyway, he’s bent double and whimpering.

She’s shaking like she never does after a fight, and the bartender is apologizing and “Jim’s no good, he’s been arrested before and he has issues with women…” All she can think is “Why the hell would you even let him in here?” but doesn’t want to hear about the money they might lose. She nods when he tells her the drinks are on the house and doesn’t say “I should fucking hope so.”

Her dad’s there when she gets back to the motel room. He takes one look at her swollen face and says: “Gather your stuff and get to bed, we’re heading out in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

He wakes her up early and hands her some cream foundation and a makeup sponge.

“The girl at the counter said…”

His eyes are soft and she doesn’t want to talk for fear of crying. She wants to give him a hug but doesn’t want to make things worse. So she looks away and nods her thanks.

She lies and says she forgot something in the bathroom, and when he leaves she reaches under the bed, smooths out her sister’s note, folds it and slips it into her pants pocket.


	2. her jaw aches from wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cis swapped Dean and Sam Winchester, a loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't take place immediately after the first chapter, but it's in the same universe and chronological.

After they burn his body, Dean doesn’t tell Sam what he told her. Can’t turn to her giant, blubbering sister and say, “You know dad? The guy who told you to get lost? Yeah he told me I might have to kill you some day.” Instead, she tells her a story.

“I met this guy, this was after you’d left for Stanford, I met this guy in some dinky little town in Oklahoma.” Sam’s not looking at her, but she’s doing that wrinkly forehead thing so she has to be listening. “He was gorgeous, like soak right through your panties hot,” she laughs as Sam glares at her, “over 6 feet, ex-football player, worked with his dad doing landscaping.”

“How do you remember all this?”

“How do you remember all that trivia shit?” Sam frowns at that but doesn’t say anything. They throw dirt over the flames, stick a wooden cross in the ground and head back to the car.

“So…?”

“So hand me a beer.” She takes off her work gloves and tosses them in the trunk. “So anyway, I fell in love. Or I thought I did. He treated me like I was someone,” she keeps talking so Sam can’t say “But you ARE someone”, “He held doors for me, didn’t ask too many questions, paid for my drinks and didn’t expect anything, well, not that that stopped me.” She falters, hides it with a gulp of beer. “He took me out to a field and we lay on a blanket and looked at the stars. Can you fucking believe it?”

Sam’s giving her this look that’s probably meant to be sympathetic but it just feels pitying.

“Dad and I got in this huge fight, I can’t even remember what about, and I packed up and moved in with that guy. Jake. Dad was planning on leaving town soon after, and I guess he did. He didn’t say anything to me so I dunno, maybe he stuck around for a bit.” She clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably, willing her heart to stop beating so fast, her tongue to stop tripping. Sam just waits.

“Turns out, the guy was an asshole. I have no idea, some people are just good at pretending to be something else. I didn’t wash a plate and he hit me.” It was the second time in her life she was caught off guard by a man that wasn’t her father, but she doesn’t tell Sam that. “He apologized and I thought ‘He’s so nice, it probably was just a mistake’, so then of course I stuck around and he hit me again. Or tried to. I ducked and broke his windpipe.” She laughs, “No one hits me over leaving candy wrappers on the floor.”

She can’t look at Sam this time. She’s so quiet, maybe she left, took a walk somewhere to let her weirdo sister work through her own problems. “So I grabbed my shit, called 911 and ran out of there as fast as I could. I hitched a ride out of town, I showed the driver my knife and it freaked him out enough not to touch me. I didn’t know what else to do, so I called dad. I feel like he was hanging out within shouting range because it only took him an hour to pick me up.”

She chances a glance to her side and jumps a little when she sees Sam out of the corner of her eye. “We put some more miles between Jake and us and checked into some shitty hotel.”

“There’s no place like home.”

She laughs, “Right. So dad puts ice on my knuckles and we’re just sitting there, and he’s practically holding my hand and it’s like the weirdest experience ever. And he says, 'Men are terrified of women.’ And I just start laughing, because he’s gotta know it’s bullshit, and I expected him to storm out but he just smiled. He just smiled the gentlest smile at me, and even his crows feet seemed forgiving. And I didn’t cry, I didn’t even want to. We watched cartoons and started a hunt the next day.”

“Jesus, Dean.”

“I know.” But she doesn’t, at least not specifically.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.” She smiles and tips her beer, they meet in the middle to clink.

Sam ends up in her bed that night, and she doesn’t even pinch her that hard when her arms inevitably end up splayed in her face.


End file.
